secunda opportunitas
by Gemmadog
Summary: Here's yet another one shot from me. This one looks at an alternative way in which things could have turned out after Charles had ended that phone call from Molly. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

Secunda Opportunitas

He was crushed.

He was shocked.

He was numb.

Her words had hurt him more than he thought they would.

More than he had ever expected they would.

Months and months of pushing her away. Ignoring her. Testing her loyalty. Months of wanting this... the end. Believing this is what he'd really wanted, what they both needed, and now it had been finally realised... it hurt more than he dared imagine it would.

Everything was falling apart. The mission, for one was all going wrong... again.

He had foolishly let it get out of hand, as he had done so many times before. He now hesitated to identify with the man he used to be. That he no longer had the firm control of his life, his career, that he used to have.

The telephone call coming from home was not just bad timing, but was also something he couldn't, didn't want to emotional process right now. Maybe later, but not now. Well at least that's what he told himself when she'd called.

He listened. Cold. Silent.

Unemotional about her side of the conversation. Then she finally, reluctantly, uttered the words he had been so desperate to hear.

The words that she thought they should put their relationship, they marriage, out of its 'misery'. Her words not his, but he knew she was echoing ones he'd cruelly used in the past.

Molly hadn't cried, hadn't shouted at him or even blamed him. She merely apologised, ever the professional, as she realised she had interrupted him in the middle of 'something'. Apologised but stated that what she needed to say couldn't wait any longer. It was time. That their sadness, feeding off each other's misery, had gone on far too long she reckoned. Finally though, she gently told him, she was giving him what he so obviously wanted... she was giving him his out.

Here she was telling that it was over. She had no more fight in her for a man who no longer wanted her.

He listened to her words. Each stabbing, shredding through some thick cloud that hung round him and cloaked his heart from her. Hid his heart from his true feelings.

He apologised. It was the right thing to do he felt, and he meant it when he said sorry. When he apologised for not being good enough. When he apologised for not trying harder. When he apologised for hurting her.

She listened but never said she forgave him. A few practicalities were then discussed, and then it was over.

The call.

His marriage.

Ended.

A thousand miles away from their home. A thousand more from where their love story started.

It had just ended.

Something neither of them had expected to happen. Something no one who knew them in the beginning thought could happen to them. Molly and Charles for a while had seemed the perfect couple and nothing would break them. Ever.

Yet something did.

Maybe even someone did.

He didn't know if it was Elvis who broke them when he died. Or were they broken by the guilt Charles felt about his death?

Maybe they were broken by how Charles felt towards Georgie, who now he felt needed him even more than before. He just didn't know.

All he knew is that his once perfect marriage was broken, and it certainly wasn't Molly's fault. It was all down to him.

Molly had tried, and tried so hard over the past two years to reach out to him. The harder she tried, the further away he pushed her. At first the pain on her face at his rejections ate him up, but then it became necessary for him to convince himself he was doing the right thing. For his conviction in continuing to turn away from her. From them.

He hadn't planned to have feelings for Lane. He hadn't planned to feel totally responsible for her. That's not the whole reason why he pushed Molly so far away. In fact Georgie played a very, very small part in it really.

He instead had pushed Molly away because he never wanted her to hurt the way Georgie had been hurt over Elvis.

He pushed her away because he never wanted her happiness to depend on him anymore.

He pushed her away because gradually his heart became closed off to the hope they could ever have a happy ever after. Because of him there had been too many deaths, even the death of his marriage was now laid at his feet.

He had stared to believe he was toxic to those he loved. And by pushing Molly away he hoped, in time, she would find happiness again. Find happiness with someone who wouldn't let her down like he knew he eventually would.

"Boss." Lane asked as she came in to the ops room. He noted no knock. No salute. "What's wrong?"

"I've just had a call from home." He explained. Letting the formalities slip. Commanding his emotions in front of her. He saw her questioning look.

She sat down next to him perched on the desk edge, as he did, while he continued. He told her that it was Molly who had just called from home. He then took in a huge breath before he uttered the words that they, him and Molly, both had agreed to end their marriage.

Saying the words out loud broke his heart and he wouldn't have been surprised if Lane hadn't heard it happening. He dared not look at her, fearing he may crumble under her stare, but he knew she had questions.

She was full of sympathy, kindness and a degree of expectation.

Why wouldn't she be? He had declared himself, his emotions to her, on so many occasions. She knew he had feelings for her.

So far her moral code had kept her away, chaste in his presence. Valuing his marriage vows, even if he hadn't. She had even angrily pushed him away once or twice, but now he could see a change. All bets were off, he guessed. He was a free man once more.

She reached out and touched his hand gently. Called him 'Charlie', which he cringed at slightly... that wasn't his name, not to her. That was the name for Elvis and only Elvis should call him, but he didn't correct her. He didn't have the strength to.

Instead he watched as she listened to the speech he gave about nothing changing between them, that he meant what he said about boundaries the day before. Something inside, that didn't sit quite right, made him tell her that it was all now down to her from here on in. She listened. Respectfully and then she used the word 'us'.

'Us' as in Charles and Georgie.

Us as in James and Lane.

It felt unusual. Once they were an 'us' he knew there would be no more 'them.'

No more Molly and Charles. No more Dawes and James.

No more would he be part of a marriage.

He would then be involved in a life without Molly.

Kingy interrupted them before they both could say more, and instantly it became business as usual between them. Affairs of the heart pushed to where they belonged...to the back of his mind.

Well as far back as it could go. His heart was not settled. It was in turmoil. Everything had changed. Whenever he was quiet, alone with his thoughts there she'd be. Filling them. Thoughts of being with her once again filling his senses. Daydreams of a future with her, a stable regular life once again.

Over the next couple of days he avoided Lane as best as he could. She was too tempting. Too much of a distraction to him. She was simply too much for him now.

However he could not avoid her always. Nor did he want to. It would have been unfair, and he still had a loyalty to her because of Elvis. For months he had craved her company, her attention, and now he was free, he knew she expected him to garner it.

He still had a job to do. He volunteered to do it, though he knew not why. He dropped some medicines off at the hospital late one evening. She was reluctantly happy when she saw him, pleased though with the attention she was now getting from him.

They talked. She pushed him for something but he knew not what. He felt as though he was floundering in the new expectations she now seemed to have of him. He told her he was trying to take it slow, not to scare her off. Those words, he knew, were spoken for her benefit as much as his.

She pushed on. Pushed further than he'd expected so soon after Molly's call. She said that maybe this was their chance to get it right. For them to be happy and he smiled kindly at her. Unsure what to say.

She asked if he knew what he wanted and he dodged the direct question, telling her instead that he wanted to do the right thing, and as he said the words he really believe that.

What he didn't know though was what exactly the right thing was anymore. For him, for her... even for Molly.

He watched her with fresh eyes. She was so very different to Molly. Molly teased, laughed, joked with him. Georgie smiled, just, challenged and questioned him.

Molly was open, comfortable... right. Once the right person for him.

Georgie was harsh at times, distant... and if he was honest, maybe the wrong person for him too. The right person for Elvis... but he was not Elvis.

He mulled all these differences over as he drove back to the base. The dark road and night matching his mood. He had wanted Lane. He had wanted to look after her because of his mistake, because he owed her that at least. Because of him she lost the love of her life. She'd lost Elvis, the man who should have been looking after her, forever. If only he'd lived, then Charles would never have considered his confusing and altering feelings towards her. He would never have considered pushing his Molly, his love away. He would never have considered having another marriage fail. He knew, right from the start, it wasn't love with Lane it was a loyalty to his dead mate. A loyalty that in his confused self-depreciating state went above and beyond all common sensibilities.

Suddenly his phone rang, and a small swirl of happiness mutinously showed itself in his gut. But it was soon quashed by the dread, guilt and self-loathing he had swirling inside of him too.

It was Molly. Her photo, a happy Molly, lit the screen as her call rang on.

As he answered a small minuscule part of him hoped she was calling to say it all was a mistake.

That she wouldn't let him do it to them. That she wouldn't let him go. She'd fight on like the brave soldier she was.

But he knew his Molly. His proud determined Molly. Once she had chosen a way, no matter how hard she found it, she would stick to it. She rarely showed weakness. Well she did, but only him. Yet he knew, in this circumstance, over this, no weakness would be shown.

Her call to him was about a bloody chest of drawers. Something so mundane. Something so ridiculous. He wondered why she had made the call at all, and then it struck him. Maybe she made it because like him she was lost.

Lost that it was all over. Lost that she had after two years of fighting to keep him had finally lost her best friend in one telephone call. But she gave nothing away. Asked no more of him than that of dividing their property up, and then she was gone.

Gone. Silent. Empty. Half of what he used to be. Forsaken. Sad. And it wasn't just because of Elvis he felt these things he discovered; it wasn't because of his guilt. It was somehow all to do with Molly no longer being there in his life.

Thank God.

She was alive. He stood and waited in the hospital after Georgie had been caught up in the bombing. The agony of waiting sucked out all his energy. Those hours of waiting to find out her fate, draining him. Eventually though he was released from his torture. She was going to be ok. He didn't have to face losing someone else he cared about in his life.

As he had held her in his arms, and then heard from the Doctor she was only minimally injured, all he could do was silently say a pray that she was still alive. Thanking God for saving her. Then suddenly, unexpectantly, giving thanks that it hadn't been Molly who had been caught up in the explosion, because then he did not know how he would cope.

He walked into her room. She looked scared and his heart went out to her. She was so alone. Usually she was so brave, strong, and now she wasn't.

He walked over to her bed and offered her comfort. She talked, he listened. She said she'd contemplated what could have happened, and realised that she'd been given another chance. Georgie looked to him for physical and mental reassurance. He could see she was lost and held her slightly awkwardly, in an embrace just as she had demanded of him. It wasn't a natural hold for either of them. It wasn't even a comfortable one, they both knew that. It was a practice one.

He listened as she suggested that maybe they, them, had a second chance at happiness. She suggested to him that they try, that she wasn't going to fight her feelings for him anymore. He smiled at her happy to have her in his arms, alive, knowing it all could have been so different.

A bubble of happiness rose up as he realised this time Lady Luck had been on their side. They both had a second chance, and they both need to grab it.

The smile he gave her when she admitted that she'd been letting her past burry her, said more than he'd expected it too. It was just those words, her analysis of what it was she felt, mirrored what he felt and it was like day light suddenly pouring in to his world once more.

It was at that point he knew. He knew that's exactly what he had been doing too. Burying all his feeling beneath guilt, fear and unnecessary expectations. Right there when he was holding his best mate's fiancé, he saw how his past had been burying him too, and he needed to let it stop. They both needed it to stop. They both needed to face reality, rather than hanging on to what they lost.

Something in him shifted, and when she suggested they get the tour out of the way, offered him a promise of something after, he could only smile. Not because of the expectation but because he felt light, hopeful, focused. After the tour there was a chance, another chance to start righting the wrongs he made of his life.

As she expected he went to pick her up. Take her back to camp. He felt already at her beck and call, just like Elvis used to be, and that unsettled him even more. He was not Elvis. He was also acutely aware that she saw that too, and almost regretted him and her moment of weakness.

She was smiling when he entered the room. That made him happy, he was happy that she was happy. Something he felt she hadn't been for a long while. Yet he wondered if he was the man to make her happy from here on in.

"How do I look?" She asked of him.

He stalled in his reply. He'd heard her ask those words a thousand times from Elvis as they went on joint nights out. How she always need confirmation that she was beautiful. Hearing her ask those words of him made him realised. He definitely wasn't Elvis. Never ever wanted to be. Would never replace him in her life, no matter how hard she was trying to convince herself that he could. Very quickly she'd realise that, as he also was.

The polite reply he gave was a long way from what he really should have said to her. He should have told her then how he now felt about her, how he felt about her version of 'us'. Now he was more sure about his feelings as each day past, and even more sure since Molly had ended them.

He had to focus. He had to stay alert. He had to keep them all alive. Yet it was difficult. Thoughts of her of the chance he may still have kept filling his mind. His every sense.

Hours later he sat down at his desk. The compound was silent. Night had brought sleep, rest, calmness to them all.

All apart from him. He fumbled with the papers, re checked the plans for the next day. Organised the small part of his world he still had control of.

As he shifted his coat from his chair. His photo wallet fell. Something he hadn't looked at for many a month. Something Molly always had made sure he'd pack.

Before her it was a thin wallet. Filled with a few photos of Sam and his parents. Even one of Rebecca once. Since Molly it became fat, stuffed full of memories. Photos of them, their life together. Happy times, important times. Pictures that catalogued their marriage, their families, their friends and their love for each other.

Opening it up was something he had avoided doing for so long. He knew he'd purposely missed packing it when he came on this tour. He knew Molly had purposely slipped in to his bag just before he left. Another attempt of hers to keep trying to reach him.

The photos for the first time brought some emotion to his eyes. Especially those ones of Elvis. There were many photos of Elvis and Charles. Elvis and Laura. Even ones of Elvis and Georgie, but the one that really made an odd tear drop down his face was the photo of Elvis, Sam and Molly.

They were once his world. The three of them so happy, so close, and all so depended on Charles in one fashion or another. Then it struck him; he may have let one, maybe even two of the people down in that photo, but there was still hope, still a chance. He'd lost one person he loved for good, but he didn't have to lose Molly, and potentially Sam too.

He realised that his happiness was in his hands. His happiness, doing what made him happy, not what some misplace guilt had fooled him into doing.

The gentle knock on his quarter's door startled him.

He froze.

He knew who it was. He didn't make a move. The guilt eating him up when he heard her whisper 'Charlie' through the door.

To open that door would mark the definite end of something, and the definite beginning of something else.

He didn't want that. He doubted she even really did.

He now knew that fact with more certainly than ever before. That what he'd been offered, chased after even, he didn't want. What he'd lost, thrown away, he wanted back.

After many minutes Georgie gave up and left him alone with his thoughts.

Alone with his thoughts and his mobile phone.

He considered what to do.

How to start. How to try to begin his life again. The life he wanted not the life he had blindly fallen into because of a belief of duty.

To call her unexpected and face rejection was something he feared. Instead he fired off a text.

_**Have you even been to Bath? The city I mean? My folks have a house there. It's magical at Christmas. **_

A cryptic message but one that was special to them. One that truly marked their beginning. He waited, agonising over the amount of time it took for her to reply.

This wait was far more painful than the one he'd had waiting that morning to discover if Lane was ok.

The outcome of this wait meaning so much more to him than that.

Eventually his phone pinged a message alert.

_**You inviting me for Christmas Boss?**_

His heart jumped. She remembered. Of course she did. More importantly... she had replied.

This was a start to clawing back the life he always wanted, he'd always needed, from the very first moment she'd burst into his.

_**Yes x**_

Was all he replied. Then quickly added another text.

_**This Christmas, the next and the next and the next... forever? Xx**_

Her reply was immediate.

_**Would that make you happy again?**_

He was certain, so certain it would. Unsure why there could ever have been any doubt.

_**You make me happy Molly. You and me. Together. Without you...I'm not. Xxx**_

_**Really Charles? For a long while I seemed to have made you unhappy. **_

The cloud, the blackness, hiding his mental clarity, instantly disappeared. Vanished. The futility of it all without her, sharply coming into focus.

He'd been a fool. She was his balm. His salvation. Leaving her, ending it with her wouldn't save her, wouldn't stop her from being hurt. It would do the opposite to her, to him, and to them.

_**I know I'm sorry. Xxxx**_

He replied.

_**Do you still want me?**_

She asked him.

_**Yes. Molly. Yes. xxxxx**_

He picked up his phone and dialled her number.

She answer in the shortest amount of rings. Answered but didn't speak.

"Molly? I'm sorry. So very sorry. Please give me another chance. Please let's try again. Please let me come back to you!"

He was crying. The first true tears since he'd secretly shed for Elvis over two years ago. They rolled down his face and caught on his lips making his words of contrition taste salty.

He could hear her breathing. Fast, fractured and loud.

"I've been a fool Molly... a fool. I love you. You're my everything. Please forgive me?"

He could hear her crying too.

"Please say something Molly? Please? Say it's not too late. Let me come back to you baby...Come back to me?"

He heard her sharp intake of breath.

"I will don't worry." Her beautiful voice sang out.

And with those words he felt the sunshine burst though and warm his heart again. He saw colours where before he'd only seen grey. He saw hope where before he'd only seen despair, he saw love where before he'd only seen hurt and lost...and duty.

"Thank you. Thank you." He whispered out. "I can't be me without you. I don't want to be me without you. I was lost for a while, but I'm back Molly... if you'll give me a chance."

"Of course I bleeding will." She giggled out through her tears. "I bloody love you more than life itself Charles." She confessed. "Always will."

"I've been a fool Molly. I'm sorry." He quietly said.

"Maybe we both have." She offered back just as quietly. "Charles we have to talk about this though. You might gonna need some help even? About Elvis and that. We both might gonna?"

"I know. I think I do... need help ... but whatever I want to do, I want to do this by your side. Together?" He asked.

"Together." She confirmed. Then he heard in her voice her frown. "Oh no. Bloody hell Charles." He held his breath. Worried.

"The thing is Charles I just wished you'd done all this earlier." She went on. "It would have saved a lot of pain."

"Shit." Panic rose through his body. Despite it all was she now saying it was too late? Too late to right his wrongs?

"I ... I'm sorry..." He stuttered. "I don't know what to say... please... why?" He finally asked her.

"Well." She giggled out. "If you had only told me sooner I wouldn't have had to shift those bleeding chests of drawers all on me own. They were a bastard to move I'm telling ya!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Again, not so good at the one shots. Hope you can forgive me for writing another chapter!**

**Secunda opportunitas**

**Chapter 2**

His phone beeped and it signalled a message. It was from Molly.

_Morning. You ok? M x  
_

That was all it said, but the fact she'd sent it at all, the fact that it placed a huge grin on his face, meant so much more than the words themselves.

He replied back instantly. Like the love stuck fool he was once again. He knew that they had issues to work through. He knew that there were things that had to be said, but he knew in his whole heart Molly was the one he wanted.

_Morning. Yes very. Cxx_

He sprang off his bed not expecting a reply back. He knew of her busy training schedule this week at home, and she knew of his. It was one of the many things that they had talked about last night on the phone. The late, onto the night, telephone conversation that was the longest one they had had for months. They didn't say everything. It would take time. They hadn't sorted everything out. They had just started and that was enough for now.

He heard the sounds of the camp slowly waking up. Voices he recognised, and some he didn't. Georgie's being one of those he did. Already dressed, his day had started hours ago, but he'd need a few moments alone before he continued with the tasks ahead.

He stared at himself in the small cracked mirror; looking at a man he now recognised, after months of being a shell of a man. He'd become a different character almost. Wondering at how it had all got so messed up, how he had almost lost himself, played a new role, and was now so grateful that he hadn't.

Even though he had his realisation. His 'Paul on the road to Damascus' moment he still knew he'd caused damage along the way. He'd hurt many, his friends, his family, Molly, and he'd hurt Georgie too. He knew he had to see Georgie to explain. To apologise. He knew he'd mixed everything up and had offered something that wasn't his to offer. He knew he had to explain to Georgie why; in that it just felt easier to offer anything to her rather than to face up to how guilty he felt whenever he saw her. It had just felt as though it was what he should do, what might have been expected. It never, however, throughout it all, felt as though it really was what he had wanted to do.

A knock on his door came and it stilled him. Shook him out of his thoughts. Ridiculous fear coursed through him. Was it her again? Showing him as the coward he now felt he was.

"Boss?" Kingy called through the thin door.

Charles, relieved at the sound of a male voice, rushed to open it. The relief that it hadn't been Georgie who had knocked was only fleeting as he saw her standing there beside his Sargent. She avoided his gaze.

"Kingy. Lane." He curtly asked and stepped outside not wanting either of them in his cabin.

He had talked to Molly last night in a way he'd never really talked before. Both briefly touching on their problems, his problems, and they agreed. He needed help, he needed her, and he wasn't going to get what her needed out there. So they had made a decision, together, the first one they had made for a long time. They had made a plan, and as soon as he had ended the cathartic, reuniting call with his wife, he started to put his plan into action.

His mind was elsewhere, but he tried to pull it back and focus up. He tried hard to listen while Kingy filled him in with the plans for the hospital and the village building work. Lane chipped in professionally and with relevance. Only once did Charles find her looking at him in a way that made him uncomfortable. Inwardly he sighed at the mess he'd made of things.

The necessary debrief finally given by the two soldiers and plans approved, Kingy went to leave. Lane not so quickly. Charles saw his chance and instructed Kingy on calling a meeting with all the section in an hour. He had news. He immediately turned to Lane.

"Lane. A word." And signalled with his head for her to follow.

They moved away from the rest of the camp. Moved towards a secluded area, shaded from the early morning sun. Away from prying eyes, and ears.

"You alright?" He asked her. He still cared.

"Yes. Thanks Boss." She smiled at him sensing something had changed. "Charlie?" She ventured out.

He visibly winced at the use of that name from her lips.

"Georgie. Look about last night..." He began. "You knocking on my cabin door."

She stepped back in surprise.

"You were in? You heard?" Then slowly it dawned on her. "But you didn't answer?"

He nodded slowly. Then shook his head.

"I'm sorry."

She played with Elvis' ring around her neck. In full show over her uniform and for Charles to see and challenge. She knew he wouldn't.

"It's still Molly. Isn't it?" She smiled kindly at him. "Of course it is." She didn't need to add.

"Look Georgie. You still mean the world to me." He stepped forward. "I still care for you. I'll always be there for you... it's just..." He never finished.

"I know..." She cut in. "...it's just I'm your best mate's girl..., still. You know that and I know that." She sadly shrugged her shoulders. "That's all I'll ever be in your eyes."

"Georgie. I need help. I need to sort my head out. I'm not coping." He offered again by way of explanation.

"What and you think I am?" She laughed harshly back. "Shit Charlie I'm a mess too! Elvis... well we never got a chance did we, me and him? You and me... well just maybe we could have helped one another."

"I can't Georgie. I was wrong, confused." He lowered his head to avoid the tears in her eyes. "It was wrong. I was wrong. We'd be wrong. You know that?"

She stayed silent for a while. Then sighing said.

"Yeah I do Charlie. I do." Then she stepped closer to him and held his arm softly. "It's just I wanted something. Someone. Anyone... and here you were."

He held on to her hand.

"I didn't want to hurt you. I was wrong to chase you."

He sat down on the bench. Legs spread apart, arms resting on either knee and head bowed low. She smiled at the position he'd taken. She'd seen it a hundred times before. Molly called it his 'sitting think', she used to tease him that great things always came after he sat like that. Georgie and Elvis used to tease him too, always the most serious one out of the four friends, but always the one who was happy to laugh at himself too.

"Back in rehab." He started. Still head bent low. Avoiding her. "I asked you if you could ever love me." He shot his head up and watched the surprise cross her face. "I needed you to love me." He continued. "I wanted you to love me."

"Charlie." She did with sadness in her voice as she sat next to him.

He straightened up.

"You see Georgie." He paused. "The thing is for a while I thought that if you loved me, then you wouldn't hate me."

"Hate you for what?" She asked. Shocked.

"For Elvis. For getting him killed. Hating me, blaming me. I thought if you had someone then you wouldn't think all those things and ... well then maybe I'd stop feeling so guilty about what I'd done."

"Fuck. Charlie." She snapped back.

"Messed up I know." He ran his hand through his curls. Spoiling his smart soldier hair for the day.

He leaned back on the bench and stared into the sky. Wishing Elvis was alive, wishing all was well in the world and he was back by Molly's side. Back next to the only person who he now knew could save him.

"Charlie." She answered. Tears rolling down her face. "You didn't kill Elvis. Elvis killed Elvis. He died as he lived. Nothing you could have done would have changed any of it."

"You don't know that. Maybe if I'd doubted Azizi, listened more ..."

She stopped him.

"NO. You can't think like that. It weren't your fault." Then she smiled. "And shit I certainly don't blame you, never have... nor hate you."

He let out a small smile. Half believing her. These were the reassurances Molly had given him time and time again. Yet he'd never heard them, never wanted to hear them, until now.

"I should never have crossed the line."

"You didn't. Not really. Even when you thought you were you were still thinking of Molly. You know that?" She watched him nod slowly at her words.

"You weren't chasing me; you were chasing Elvis' girl all the time. I knew that too. It wasn't real. I'd never be yours, even if you did want me. I still love Elvis and you...well you... would never be mine either. You belong to Molly."

She leaned back against the bench and continued to talk. He was happy to let her as the only words he could say to her were words of how sorry he was.

"Thing is Charlie, despite it all I need you in my life." She smiled as she saw the flash of panic cross his face.

"I need you in my life to remind me of Elvis. I need you in my life as Elvis' best mate, my friend and even my CO. Can you do that?"

He smiled at her and wondered just when did it all become so clear to her? When did she realise what was right?

"Yes." He said softly "I can be your friend. Yes I'll keep Elvis' memory alive for you." He held onto her arm softly. "But being your CO... well I can't do that. Not now. May be not for a while or ever."

She looked confused.

"Molly?" She asked

"Molly? No." He shook his head. "Me. I need help. She sees that. We talked. Last night." He confessed.

"And? Is she telling you to say away from me?" She feared the worse.

"No. We talked... a lot about me and her. A lot about how I'm feeling... and a bit about you...and how I was confused."

"Shit." Georgie spat out. "She'll hate me."

"No." He scratched his chin. "She doesn't. She sees we both need help. That it was me who confused things. Not you."

"But... I came to your room." She said sadly.

"But I didn't answer." Then as an afterthought he asked. "What would you have done if I had?"

"Ran in the fucking opposite direction I think." She said honestly. "As fast as I could. Sorry." Grimacing at him.

"Don't be." He replied back laughing slightly. They both relaxed on the bench. Their conversation more gentle, easier now. "I've spoken to the Brig. Told him I'm not right."

She whipped her head around.

"Really?"

"Told him you'd probably fully support my suggestion too." He said apologetically "I've asked to go home."

She smiled and it felt like the first genuine smile she'd given him in a long while.

"You're right. I do. Support you that is. Go home. Get help and don't lose Molly."

They sat just staring at the landscape before them.

"What about you?" Charles asked. "Are you going to be ok? Do you need help?"

"I think I do." She replied. "But my helps here. Doing my job. I've nothing to save back at home." She turned to him. "I'm closer to Elvis doing what I do you know?"

"Yeah. I think I do." He replied.

Knowing that once was him, his way of coping, but not now. Now he needed to tell Molly all, and needed to heal with her by his side.

She stood and offered him her hand. He took it grateful as the sign of friendship it was given.

"What you going to say to Molly?" She asked. "I know I've messed up to!"

He looked at her as they set off.

"How?"

"I'm a medic. I could see. I knew you weren't right." She confessed. "But I did nothing. Molly knew that."

"Look. Lane we were both messed up. We we're both grieving." He offered her a way out.

"No. I was selfish. Knew if I said anything I'd lose you... my connections to Elvis. I thought I needed you more than you needed help. Sorry."

He stopped and stared at her.

"You knew? Saw it?" He asked amazed.

She nodded.

Her confession floored him, but he hid it from her. Remembering how Molly had begged one night, many nights actually, for him to get help, and how he'd told her she was imagining it. Shouting at her that if he needed help so badly why had his own medic, their friend, not spotted it? And now here she was telling him that's exactly what she saw, and never acted on it. It made him want to get home as soon as he could. He had so much to make up for. So much to work hard for, and so much to leave behind.

They started walking again. Her confession and his inability to appease her caused a feeling of discomfort as they walked.

"So I tell you Boss I don't envy you." She attempted to make it right.

He looked at her as they walked back towards the section.

"Why's that Lane?" Just like that they had reverted back to their rightful places in each other's worlds.

"You've got to tell that lot you're going home without them." She laughed as they got closer. "They're not going to take it well." She said.

He sighed.

"I might make you right there Lane."

He walked through the arrivals gate alone, though all too aware of his shadow. A flat, quiet home coming. No one there to meet him. No one there to rush into his arms to welcome him home.

There was just him and the psychiatric nurse who'd accompanied him, on his flight home. It had been a normal civilian flight that brought him back, the quickest of ways. And so the Army insisted, after several days of delays in the planning, that he was assessed and deemed safe to be accompanied home. All the way home. The last thing that Army wanting to do was send him home with metal health issues, alone. So despite the hurt to his pride, his insistence it all being unnecessary, he finally had made it almost home and his babysitter's job was almost over.

He was escorted right up to his front door, with lists of instructions for the morning, and the next stage. He happily took them. Looking forward to being free from her care. She'd not left him alone for a moment, and he'd struggled with his lack of privacy. Once he'd said his goodbyes, he breathed deeply. For the first time in days since he'd spoken to the Brig, he was now truly alone. No colleagues to hand over to. No section members wanting his time to reminisce. No calls from his mother, drenched part in worry for her son who she knew was struggling, and part drenched in hope that it would all be alright.

Today though there had been no calls to or from Molly either. The loss of these though he hadn't minded. Knowing there was so much that needed to be said, and his chaperone would only have prevented him from saying them. He was emotionally drained, from the travelling, from his admissions, and with a fear of what was to come. The past few calls had been hard and stilted with Molly, and he hoped this was only because of their separation, and not because she regretted him.

He had said his goodbye to Georgie privately. There was no regret, no ache at not being able to see her, at leaving her behind. His heart knew that it was the right thing, as did his conscience. The right thing to do for them all. He admired her determination to stay. Her need to keep on with the job in hand. Her acknowledgment that Charles was only half a person without Molly, and that she would never have been the help he'd needed. Just the opposite.

So although his goodbyes were sad, and he felt a failure as a man and as a Captain, they still felt good to say. He only hoped his 'hellos' felt just as right as his 'goodbyes' did once he'd got home. For he knew he'd hurt a lot of people he'd cared about, loved, over the past few months.

Quietly he let himself into their front door. Into the house they shared. His home, but somewhere he hadn't felt safe or happy in for many a month. He entered quietly, as though he was entering a Church. He knew not why. He knew Molly was away training. Wouldn't, couldn't, be home for another three days. Still he felt as though he needed to be respectful. Their home had seen and heard so much, and he had no doubts as he sort help, and they worked things through, it would see and hear a lot more.

He looked around him. Not everything was as it should be. Molly, when she had left, more than a week ago, had left a home that she knew was about to be broken. She'd started to move things, pack things, divide things up for their new separate lives he so desperately had wanted. He couldn't blame her, but still it hurt to see the evidence.

Thankfully though he'd made the right call. Making the decision thousands of miles away, once she'd left their home, telling her he needed help...and her, that had up until now halted the process. Yet moving through the different rooms of their home, seeing all the boxes made him realise just how much he had lost, and how close he'd been to losing it forever.

Eventually he sat down on the stairs. Having no energy to go any further, dreading the changes he'd see if he ventured upstairs. Before he'd gone, many months before, he'd moved in to the spare room. Citing nightmares, leg pain, his snoring, anything. Relocating as though it was a selfless thing he was doing for Molly's good. Yet they both knew, but only Molly was brave enough to admit it, he was doing it for him, for his wants and his needs only. He wouldn't venture upstairs, not yet. He wasn't brave enough.

How long he sat on the stairs he didn't know. Time passed him by, but his leg started to ache and the house was becoming cold. It was now dark outside. He fumbled for his mobile, he saw several messages that had come in silently from Molly. His anxiety and focus at just getting home had made him forget his promise to text her when he arrived at their home. He saw the anxiety escalate in each text as he read them. Her panic and her worry obvious. Guilty he immediately tried to call her back. It went straight to answerphone and he cursed his luck. This game of missing each other's call, not replying to texts, was how it had all stated to go wrong in the beginning. He was desperate now to speak to her, and over the next hour tired and tried to call her.

Eventually he gave up, moved some boxes, and laid down on the sofa. He had no energy, and now the sofa was cleared he had no need to go upstairs. A sickening feeling however had started to take hold. Was he too late? It was now her turn to self-preserve? She was ignoring his calls. The reality of their situation, of him physically being home again, as well as mentally being back, maybe she was beginning to feel it was too much for her to cope with. Her lack of answering his calls reinforced that maybe this time it was her that wasn't willing to talk.

No sleep came. Hunger chewed away at him, but he didn't eat. His thoughts constantly going over his life, the mess he'd made, the friends he'd lost and now, maybe the destruction of his marriage.

He never thought he'd feel this, an eagerness to begin.

He had his first assessment session in the morning and for once he couldn't wait to start. To start sorting out the mess his life had become.

Suddenly the front door rattled then slammed shut.

He heard the panic in her voice as she shouted 'Charles'. As she searched. Looking for him. The woman he loved still chasing him.

She flew upstairs as the downstairs was in darkness and he heard her again shout 'Shit. Fuck', when she'd been in each bedroom and couldn't find him there.

He untangled himself from the sofa. His heart was beating so loudly. So fast he couldn't call out to her, his happiness swallowed up his voice. She was here. She was in their home.

He raced out of the room to the bottom of the stairs, just as she reached the top of them from the landing. Both arriving at their vantage points at the same time

Her eyes widening in surprise and her face was streaked with tears, as she saw him.

"I thought you hadn't come home." She sobbed out. "Thought you'd changed your mind."

"No. I thought you were ignoring me." He said over the top of her words. "Your phone. I called."

"Left it at work." She said through a mouth full of sobs.

Slowly, deliberately, one by one, step by step, she walked down the stairs, matching his measured slow assent up to her.

They met in the middle. Her one step above him, giving her some much needed height. Standing in front of him almost on an equal level. Charles one step lower than her allowed him to look almost level into her eyes.

"I came home. For you." He said. Then added. "I'm sorry Molly. For not texting, for scaring you... for everything."

She reached her arms out to invite him into a hug.

"I know, and it don't matter anymore. You're here and you want to be here." She smiled as he slowly fell into her embrace.

It felt so good for both of them.

"I am here and I do want to be here. More than anything. I want to be here with you always Molly." He whispered into the top of her hair.

She held him tightly but said no words. She figured she'd done a lot of talking at him over the months, whether he heard or not was a whole new thing. She now felt it was time to finally let him talk and her just to listen.

He pulled away and they both sank down onto the stairs they'd been standing on. Pressed close together, hands holding hands. Her head rested on his shoulders.

"I miss the bugger." He said quietly. "Really miss him, and I reckon he not here cause I fucked up."

She squeezed his hand tighter.

"But I'm not going to fuck us up." He kissed her head. "I'm going to try, so unbelievably hard to make this right."

She pulled away from him and gave him a brilliant smile.

"You've really come back to me?" She asked, closing her eyes as she waited for his answer. Still a doubt of worry that it wasn't true.

"I've come back Molly." He said as he rested his forehead on hers. "I've come back and I'm so very sorry I ever left."

They stayed like that for a good while. Looking into each other's eyes. His hands holding her face in his. Breathing in the same air. Sharing a something once more.

"I love you Dawesy." He said so very quietly.

"Ditto." Was all she needed to replied.


	3. Chapter 3

**Third chapter of my one shot...think this is the end...maybe?**

**Secunda opportunitas**

**Chapter 3**

He woke up alone in an empty and silent house. His first thoughts were of panic and then he remembered. Molly had left early, very early that morning. Back to her training course that was so important to her, and her career. Back to her responsibilities, her commitments.

He glanced at the clock and saw it had just turned eight. There were still several more hours to go before his first assessment with the mental health team on camp. Several hours to amuse himself! He reached over and pulled her pillow close. It smelled of her, a smell he could never forget, even during the times he had really tried to. An old crumpled t shirt of his that she had worn to bed last night, stuffed under her pillow, a reminder of their physical closeness.

They had talked a little the night before. Both knowing that this was not going to be fixed purely by them alone. Nearly two years of mental and marital torment was unable to be repaired so quickly. Though they had talked, they had said the important things. Said the things that needed to be said for now. Said the things that hadn't been said for such a long time.

It wasn't only Charles who had confessed. Molly had too. When Charles spoke of his confused feelings for Georgie, she spoke of her utter feelings of hopelessness standing by watching it all. When he talked of his guilt and of feeling lost, she admitted she was scared that she wasn't what he needed anymore. They both had known their issues, both had realised that help was needed, but both for so long, convinced that they couldn't be the person who the other needed them to be anymore. Charles wanted to be the strong figure that she had fallen in love with. Molly had wanted to be the kind caring woman he'd fallen in love with. Both doubted their roles in each other's lives, and so things had slowly started to fall apart. Until now. Now they both saw this as time to heal, to repair, to grow, to mend.

They had slowly made the way back to their room. Hands held and hesitant. He felt shy at returning back to the marital bed. She urged him on. Confessing to him she needed to be held, she needed his solidness about her to make her realise this was real. He agreed. There was no passion as they climbed almost guiltily between the sheets, but there was love. And love was what mattered.

She hadn't slipped away in the morning like their night had been some guilty secret. Instead she made sure he was awake, made sure he knew of her love and pride for him. Made sure, he was sure, that this was still what he wanted. He held her as they both sat on the edge of the bed. Stroking her hair and kissing her head as an act of pure contrition. This goodbye seemed to be the hardest one they'd ever had. She was away for another night. Returning the day after tomorrow and then would request some leave. They'd have time together soon, but it was the here and now they wanted, not the promise of it.

He surprised himself. He'd fallen back asleep after she had left. Not like him at all, but he knew the months and months of running emotionally and physically had him spent. When he woke he felt partially refreshed, but determined. He said it so many times during the night to Molly. Even whispered it as she slept curled up on his chest... he was not going to fuck this up.

It was late in the afternoon as he finally walked out of the med centre and escaped the questioning, probing, by the skilled mental health team. He looked at his watch. He'd been there nearly all day. They were thorough and intense. Realistically he had a long journey ahead of him. They Informed him that over the many many months ahead he'd need them, depend on them, see them as friends and see them as foes, but eventually they would help him and make him right.

He expected it to be tough, and he was wrong. It was very very very tough. Tougher than he could have dared to imagine. It was hard to start opening up, after being closed off for so long. It was hard to pour out your deepest worries and anxieties. It was hard but he kept going. He kept going because he knew not what else he could do. He kept going for Molly.

He'd missed her, and now drained, spent, unable to think anymore he missed her even more. He knew if she had been there, if she could have been there, although she wouldn't have been in with him during the initial counselling, she would have helped him in her very special way. And so standing outside the red bricked building, alone, he knew he needed his wife more than anything. And he knew he'd need her throughout it all.

He blindly walked across the camp to his car. His head held high as he worried about the camp gossip already knowing of his issues. Acting as though he was the soldier he should be, rather than the broken one he felt he was.

"You ignoring me then?" She asked playfully. "That's not nice. When I've come all this way!"

He turned to the back end of his car and saw her. Not believing that she was there. He'd said his goodbyes to her and hadn't expected to see her for a while.

"Well, come on then you muppet. Ain't you pleased to see me?" She asked. For one moment her smile faltered in case he gave the wrong answer and her heart would break all over again.

In three strides he was by her. Pulled her into the tightest of hugs, despite the uniforms they both wore. Despite the geography of their reunion, he kissed her. Hard, passionately and with utter thanks.

"Fuck Molly. It's so good to see you." His eyes glassed over at the face splitting smile she gave him. "What you doing here?" He asked holding her away from him slightly.

"Pulled a sickie. Didn't I?" She giggled back.

"Why? Shit Molly this course is important to you." He asked with concern.

"Yeah. I know. But so are you Charles. Very." She stared into his eyes with utter honestly. "Beside I thought you needed me to be 100% by your side; always? Can't do that can I when I'm playing soldiers hundreds of miles away."

He kissed her again. Damming all protocol or levels of expectations his rank fostered on him.

"Thank you." He eventually said. Finding it hard to stop kissing her. Finding it hard to pull away from her willing lips. "I do need you. I need you so much."

She smiled and took the car keys from him.

He looked at her with doubt. The big four by four was his baby. He drove this. She drove the little Honda Jazz she adored. That was just the way it was.

"I'm driving. You look knackered." She explained. "Beside you don't know where we're going."

She threw her kit bags into the boot and laughed as he still hadn't moved. Unsure if he wanted to relinquish control.

"Trust me?" She quietly asked.

He nodded without hesitation.

"Then let me help you. Let me do this for you." She added.

The car journey was silent. Comfortable. They had no need to fill a happy silence. His hand rested on her lap and every now and then, when she was brave enough to release one hand from the wheel, she'd stroke his. They both had calm contented looks about them. Charles watched as the countryside passed him by, trying to recognise where they were going.

Eventually his eyes closed and only opened once she'd stopped the car. They were in the car park to one of their favourite walks. Somewhere they used to come to a lot over the years. The forest, the river, the peace and the beauty of it all made it their perfect place.

She turned as he looked at her with a question.

"I know you're knackered. We don't have to walk, but I've brought some sandwiches, coffee... cakes even. Thought we could... well sit, think, and if you want to talk?"

He saw how she hesitated about her plan. He leaned across towards her, and wonder exactly when his wife had started to managed them. When had he pushed her away so far that she was nervous just in his mere company. He wondered at when he had first started to hurt her, when had he first started pushing himself away too.

"Sounds perfect." He smiled at her and was rewarded with a look of huge relief from his wife.

They talked. Actually Molly talked. Pointless, amusing things that had happened in her life. Somethings he didn't know and somethings he had vague recollections of knowing. Things she had told him about, things he hadn't heard when she'd last spoken about them. He loved it. She wasn't demanding anything from him, apart from his attention. She wasn't expecting his opinions, but loved it when he gave them. She just wanted to be with him, and he just wanted to be with her. He realised as it was time to leave just how much he had enjoyed being with her once again. How much he enjoyed getting back to a normal level of normal around her.

He felt as though he hadn't just got his wife back. He felt as though he had his best friend Molly back too. She hadn't asked about his counselling in great detail and he was grateful for that. She felt he'd tell her when he was ready, and not before. So she was surprise as she walked out of the en-suite, still brushing her teeth to see him sitting there waiting for her on the bed. Papers in one hand and a filled prescription in the other.

"You ok?" She asked. Knowing the answer to that question could bring back a number of answers.

He smiled at her and held his arms out to allow her to rush to his side.

"Yes and no. I need to take one of these." He shook the bottle of meds in his hand. "And I thought you might like to read these." He waved the papers, his metal heath care plan, he'd been given by the team earlier that day.

She bumped his shoulder.

"You still know how to show a girl a good time in the bedroom Captain James." She smiled at him.

He returned it instantly. All awkwardness, feeling of shame, removed by her easy going way.

"Think I'll go down and make us a hot chocolate." She stood and offered. "Then how about we climb into our bed there and read them together?"

"Sounds like a plan to me Dawes." He tipped his head back in the realisation of it all. At just how much he needed his Molly. And then she was gone.

The following morning he woke up with her in his arms. Realising he was no longer alone. His head was thick, the lateness of their own therapy session, the hours of talking they had undertaken, meant he'd taken his tablet late. The effects still hung around him. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to wake himself up.

She curled tighter into his naked chest. Her hand catching his and stilling it.

"Don't." She said quietly. "Don't fight it. You've no appointment until this afternoon. You've nowhere to be for now. Go back to sleep Charles."

"I can't. It seems wrong." He said back.

"It ain't wrong." She looked up at him and kissed him softly. "It's called getting better... slowly... one step at a time."

She sat herself up and pulled him into her chest. Still clad in one of his old t shirts, but that was all she wore, and as it rode up against them he delighted in the touch of the nakedness of her body once more. Realising the privilege it was to be held by her. He lay into her, into her arms which were holding him tight onto her breasts. She stroked his hair, and murmured words of love.

Next time he woke, he was alone. He was surprised at how he had fallen back asleep. His head still felt full of cotton wool, but nowhere near as bad as before. A small step, a tiny issue to his road to recovery, as he saw Molly had been right.

He hesitated at the kitchen door as he watched her cooking breakfast. Something so simple, so normal, but something he hadn't seen her do for such a long time. It showed him just how much he had avoided their home and life together.

She turned and caught his staring.

"Morning sleepy head." She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. "You feeling any better?"

"Much." He offered back and sank his head down into her shoulder.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"So" She pulled away. Walking backwards to the hob, still keeping eye contact with him. "I'm working on the theory that if an Army marches on its stomach, then I guess the same applies for their minds too?" She giggled.

She opened the oven and brought out a selection of warmed up pastries she'd been out to buy.

"Thought we'd start with these, and then have bacon and eggs for afterwards." She pulled up a chair and started to tear into one of the hot buns. "We've another big day."

"We?" He sat opposite her. "We?"

She stilled.

"Yeah. I'm coming with you." She said swallowing a feeling of dread. Fearing rejection. "I mean I know I can't come in and that, well not at first... but I can drive you there, get you coffee and lunch and stuff. Wait with you and that."

He grabbed a bun himself, then slowly poured himself a coffee.

"I don't know Molly..." He began.

She cut him off quickly.

"Please Charles...at least the first week or so. Those pills can make you feel a bit shit and that. It's safer I drive I reckon. I'd only worry."

He cut her off just as quickly. Holding his hand half way up to ask her to listen. He quickly considered everything she'd said. Knowing once again she was right.

"I don't know... you seem to be getting a bit attached to my car. I see what you're doing here Mrs James." He laughed. "Offering to drive me, my arse! Saying it's safer! You're just wanting to play in my big car again."

She blinked back the tears that had started to form. Looked at him. Then giggled.

He continued. Though far softer and sincere.

"I'd love for you to come. Be there. For me. For now. I've told you Molly. I won't fuck this up."

"I know." She smiled back at him. "I want to be there for you. Always."

"Thank you." He said as he swallowed a mouth full of food.

"Beside the fact I get to dive your car, again. Well mate let's just say that's an added bonus." She threw in the last words on the subject. Watching his slightly horrified look.

He slammed down the file he'd been given. Stormed into the kitchen. Taking his mood out on the kitchen cupboards.

"Wind ya bleeding neck in Charles." Molly said forcefully as she followed him in.

He spun on his heels as she turned on the kettle.

"Four fucking months Molly. Four fucking months I've been doing this. All for nothing." He raised his voice at her.

"For nothing?" She asked with surprised. "For nothing? I thought you were doing this for you, for me." She struggled to calm herself. "For us?"

He took in her hurt look.

"You know what I mean!" He said ashamed of his words.

Since he'd come back home, since he'd started his counselling, his therapy, she'd been nothing but supportive. Always there for him, always willing to put him first. She didn't deserve his anger or resentment from today's events. He wasn't being fair, but it was hard stopping.

"It's good Charles." She tried. "They still want you." She tried to offer him hope.

"Want me to babysit new squaddies." He snapped back.

"That ain't fair." She countered back. "Look I know you're royally pissed off... just read the stuff the CO gave you... and stop taking your fucking temper tantrum out on me cups." She walked over and snatch them out of his hands.

He went over and stood looking out of the window.

"It's just I thought I was getting somewhere. I'd got somewhere!" He stared at his feet. "Today showed me I haven't." He mourned.

"No Charles." She said from the other side of the room. "Today showed you still have a career. A job, but you still have a long way to go."

He turned to look at her as though she had told him something he didn't know.

"You knew that?" She continued. "You've always known that there's more to go."

"A training role. A fucking training role." He snapped. "I'm worth more than that."

"Thanks a lot." She said back sharply. "What does that make me then? That's what I do. What I've chosen to do so I can stay here, at home, with you."

"You know what I mean Molly. I want to go back out there. Back on operational duties. I want to be back properly and be a Captain again."

She couldn't move closer to him. Her anger was spilling over. She was doubting the faith she had in her reserve.

"What are you saying Charles? You want to go back on tour rather than stay here and do the training job you've been offered." She said it so quietly.

He looked at her, and only gave a slight nod of his head but it was enough.

She drew herself up. Today had been a day she had dreaded, but had looked forward to. The day he'd be given his new instructions. The day his bosses, who'd assessed all the information they had from the team, discussed his further role in the Army. She'd expected him to be unhappy with a stay at home role for now, but she never expected him to admit he wanted to go back out on tour again. Not so soon anyway.

It hurt. It scared her. He wasn't ready. They knew that. She knew that. Everyone knew that apart from Charles. She thought he did. Thought he knew his limitations for now, but apparently not.

He wanted to leave again.

His need to run again made her doubt everything they had achieved. Everything they had gone through. She snapped.

"Fine fuck off then Charles. Run back to Georgie. To Two Section. Go on bloody tour." Her voice loud and determined. "But just remember mate this time when it all goes to shit... cause it will... I ain't gonna be here for you when you get back."

She turned and slammed her way out of the house.

He stood mute. Listening to his car drive away at speed.

He was shocked, but he knew the Molly of old needed space. Time out. It was the very least he could now offer her.

Throughout it all, whatever had been said, Molly had shown lots of emotion, but never anger at him. She'd been patient, kind, caring and always willing to talk it through. She was by his side constantly. Just like he'd asked her to be, and not until today had he seen her angry despite the things he had confessed. Her anger today nuclear when he'd confessed he thought he was ready to leave again.

Hearing her shout, watching her anger, had been like a cold bucket of water thrown over all his dreams, expectations of the day. His normally loud feisty Molly had been holding herself back. Hiding away her temper to help him, and today he'd pushed her too far. Another wake up call for him, and there had been lots. Another one showing him he could depend on her, always, but he couldn't take her for granted. And he felt, he just had.

The rest of the evening was miserable, and he spent it alone. She never texted or called. He didn't try to either. What could be said? He knew what he had done, and knew what he now had to do to make it right. Actions spoke louder than words in some cases during his recovery. He'd learnt that.

The Army had been his everything, less so once Molly was in his life, but it still was a major part of who he was. He'd expected by now he'd be back to being the man he once was, despite the counsellors constantly telling him that was not how these things worked. Time was what he needed to give himself. Realistic expectations. Not goals to return to what he once was. He would be who he was, different, be still just as valuable, still the man he knew and who everyone loved ... just more aware of 'things'.

He picked up the envelope which held the details of his new posting. The truth be told today he had listened very little to what was being said to him by his CO. Instead he'd sat there only hearing instead what was being taken from him. So alone, aware of his errors he picked up the file and started to look through it all. The more he read the more he understood and the more he accepted. Some coping techniques were needed several times as he worked through it all to allow him to go on, but he did.

An hour or so later he rested his head back and again realised how foolish he had been. The new post wasn't anything but less than a new challenge. A new role to make his. He was starting to see it for what it was, a chance to continue, to be who he wanted to be professionally, to stay in. He'd jumped the gun. A bad habit of his.

Behaved badly, because for the first time in his military career someone was telling him what do, rather than him feeling as though he was actively choosing to do so. He recognised he'd acted like a spoilt child when he hadn't heard the words from his superiors he thought he should be hearing by now, and in doing so he had pushed Molly too far. Realisation that what he was being offered was perfect, appropriate and able to give him a chance for more... if... when the time was ever right. ... slowly came. The post not second best, not a consolation prize, but an alternative. An option, and a bloody good one at that.

He chose not to chase after her. Though he knew where she'd be. He didn't need to, for the first time in a long time he had total confidence in her, in them, that she would come back to him. Just like she always had done before. And so he prepared for bed, and he prepared for Molly's home coming.

"You soppy bugger." She was smiling, he knew that even though the bedroom was in half darkness.

"I disagree." He said as he shook of the half sleep he'd surprisingly fallen into waiting for her to come home.

He looked over at the clock and it wasn't as late as he thought. She'd returned sooner than he'd expected. She left him alone just long enough for them both to gain some perspective.

He watched her play with the cut flowers he'd placed on her pillow. The blooms he'd chopped down from their garden. Nothing fancy. It never was, but they were perfect.

She'd once told him she was uncomfortable getting flowers. Only had even been given them once or twice in her life, and was always deeply suspicious of any man who gave them.

And so very early on in their relationship he'd leave her a flower, or flowers when she least expected it.

A rose or two slotted into a text book she was reading, a daffodil or tulip brought up in a vase on the occasional morning breakfast tray he'd bring her, a pressed sunflower loving placed in her kit bag whenever she went on tour. Slowly but surely he'd started to introduce flowers into Molly's life. So much so, just before the mess of Elvis dying, he'd started to bring her flowers home every other Friday just to see the reluctant, but genuine smile on her face as he gave them too her. Proud he was the one that had done that. Proud that he was the only one she'd accept them from.

And so tonight, because he hadn't given her flowers for such a long time, and because he regretted all the reasons why he'd stopped, he had laid a small bunch of late summer roses on her pillow.

"I love giving you flowers." He went on. "I stopped, and that was wrong." He confessed.

"Thank you." She quietly said. "I'm sorry I left."

She sat on the edge of the bed and played with the petals.

"I shouldn't have." She continued. "There's no excuse at me shouting at you. You don't t need it."

"I kind of liked it." He admitted.

She turned her head slightly in doubt.

"It made us feel like a normal couple again. You yelling, and me standing there wondering when you were gonna stop." He teased.

She shrugged her shoulders but he knew she hadn't taken offence.

"Watch it. I could blow again." She said through her half hidden smile.

He chuckled.

He knelt up and rubbed his hands down her back and eventually rested them on her shoulders. Both staring straight ahead. Her back to his front.

"I shouldn't have left though." She signed.

"Yes you should." He replied. "It's what I did for months. Think I can forgive you then this one time."

She nodded but said nothing. He continued. Over the months of having help, they'd found that sometimes their most honest conversations had been when they didn't look at each other. When they didn't measure their responses because of the pain they saw on the other's faces.

"You came back though. Thank you." He kissed her head. "That's the important thing." She went to speak but he continued. "And I might make you right. About what you said. Me pissing off back out on tour."

She spun around. Unsure of his meaning.

"You mean your gonna go?" She hardly could ask.

"Christ Molly. NO." He pulled her to him and they sat back on the bed. "I meant you're right. I'm not ready. May never be." He let out a huge breath and she tightened her arms around him. Holding him together. "But I'm so very ready to take on my new role and keep working at being the me I want to be...and being here with you."

She sobbed. Something she did a lot these days, but not as much as he would have thought. Over the months some conversations had been brutal, raw, gut wrenchingly honest. Some had led to tears, some to laughter and some where they just need to hold each other in silence.

"Thank you." She kissed him briefly. Sniffling away her tears as best she could.

Life and it's mad pace sometimes had no effect on them and tonight this was one of those nights. Despite her early start, despite the night hours moving towards the morning ones, they didn't rush. They held on to each other, their marriage and their dreams.

"What made you know." She asked. "Made you realise?"

He knew exactly what she was asking. She had touched on his feelings for Lane briefly before. She'd empathised with their emotions. Although she'd never truly forgive Georgie for not acting on her professional opinion, she would bare no malice. Georgie had been suffering too, and without the person they all loved to help her.

He moved slightly but had no hesitation in answering her question. He knew the answer and knew it with total honesty.

He'd thought back to that life changing moment so many times.

"I had blisters." He started.

She looked at him surprised. Not expecting his confession. To start in such a way.

Still she asked.

"Fourth toe, left foot, and right heel as always you muppet?"

"Yes." He chuckled. "Fourth toe left foot and right heel."

He rested his head back against the head board.

"I had these blisters. They were starting to hurt and I was hunting around for the plasters you pack for me." He grinned. "I found them. Packed up with all the other first aid stuff you always pack for me. It was then I knew. When I realised."

She shuffled to his side. Stroking her fingers over his chest, but said nothing.

"I knew then Molly. Holding those bloody plasters in my hand... that no one looks after me like you. Despite it all. Despite what I had be doing to you... to us. You were still there looking out for me a thousand miles away."

He turned his head down to smile at her. And she smiled lovingly back.

"I realised that everything I thought, I was feeling, was trying to do, was wrong. There was only you. You were the one who'd help me... make it right. You were the one I needed." He took both her hands in his and brought them up to his lips.

"You Molly. You would be the one who'd save me. Only you, and I knew then I'd never be able to live without you. Ever."

He paused as he watched her. Anxious how his confession would be taken. But he need not have worried.

"It's not the most orthodox treatment I guess, or the most romantic declaration." She said. "But I'll take it you daft bugger." Then laughed a proper belly laugh as his words hit a spot. "Your bloody stinky feet... who would have thought?"

He joined in with her laughter. He joined in because he could. Because despite it all they were still together.

He laughed because he felt happy and the green tentative shoots of recovery very definitely were there and growing each day. And he laughed because sometimes with Molly life was funny, unexpected and as long as they could laugh together he knew they'd stay together.


	4. Chapter 4

**And so here is the last chapter of my one shot.**

**Enjoy.**

**Secunda Opportunitas**

**Epilogue.**

"I think you should go." She said as she determinedly walked away from him.

"Molly. Please?" He called out at her departing figure. His leg still played up at times, and slowed him down.

Confused. Scared. He ran his hands though his hair as he attempted his best stride after her.

He caught up with her, and they exchanged looks. Looks that said a thousand words.

The day was sunny, warm and gradually they walked in time with each other, their hands found each other's hands. Enjoying their special place, together.

Eventually he spoke.

"Really? You think I should go." He thought for a while. "You'll come to though? Right?" Both of them noticed the slight panic sound to his voice.

"Nah. I don't think so." She offered back, finding a tree stump and sitting down on it to admire the view.

"What? Your names on the invite too." He joined her. Holding on to her knee and giving it a squeeze.

"I know. It's just they were your boys before mine. It just seems right that you're there, alone, to say goodbye." Their hands automatically found each other's again as they talked.

He paused.

"You know she'll be there?" He asked, watching her closely.

"Georgie? Yeah course I know that. Would be surprised if she wasn't." She turned to him. "It doesn't bother me. Not anymore."

One whole year had passed since he'd started therapy. Since he'd come back to her. One whole year of being on the worst and best roller coaster of his life. There had been good days, there had been dark frustrating days where he'd almost quit. And yet there had been great days, like today, and for each and every day she'd been there with him. By his side as she promised she would.

He wasn't 'cured', he was coping, each day had good points and bad points, just like everyone else's. He'd learnt though he just didn't have to fix them all. He used techniques, he used all that he had been taught and a lot that he had just learnt to deal with, each day, as it came. Whatever, he often wondered, that was helping him, was so far working and his life was moving along at a steady pace.

He had more than he had dared hope for. More than he imagined that day he stood in front of the Brig and confessed he needed help. He was a lucky man. His new role was good, better than good even. Better than he'd foolishly had assumed it would be. It was a whole new challenge, a whole new shift away from his previous comfort zones. And being the man he was recovering to be, he soon spotted its potential, and fought to make that work too.

There still were days, every day if he was honest, when he needed Molly more than others, but she didn't mind. That was marriage she told him almost daily. Besides she openly confessed, that she depended on him too. That was just how they were. They needed each other to get through.

As his head started to work out its problems, it's triggers, the counsellor invited Molly to join them in a few of his sessions. She immediately agreed, thinking it would help Charles, keen to be involved. Very quickly she realised how intense it all was. Learning from first-hand experience just how hard it was for Charles, because it was so very hard for her. She hadn't been prepared the difficulty of it, how exposing, but slowly gradually she, like Charles, benefited from the sessions too.

And so a year on they both felt mentally stronger, established with a degree of resilience with their own minds and with each other's hearts. And so when the invite came it didn't turn their world upside down. They dealt with it.

They took themselves off to one of their happy places, and talked about it. She knew he was surprised by what she had said, offered, but she really meant it. Molly truly was happy with the thought of him going to the section gathering without her.

It was an important event. The merging of old two regiments, to create a new one. His old regiment and an equally older one being disbanded and reinvented as a whole new one. It was effectively a goodbye to hundreds of years of tradition, and history. It was important for him to go, but not she felt, so much for her.

All those years ago she'd known she'd only been on loan to his section and regiment, for a short period of time. Once the tour had been over, once they went very public about their feelings, she quickly was shipped back off to her own. To go as a former friend to the section would have been nice, to go as Charles' wife would have been nicer, but she knew there were issues that potential might have made it difficult for all.

She knew, she'd always known, that Two Section was, and would always be more his than hers. That's why she felt Charles most definitely should go. She'd also known that Two Section, whether she liked it or not, belonged to Georgie more than they did to her. Molly's time with them brief, while Georgie's had been, and still was lengthy. She'd spent so much more time with them, had been there for them, just like, if the Army gossip was true, they'd been there for her. On the grand scheme of things it was a small issue and Molly had accepted that fact a long time ago. True she had developed close unbreakable relationships with some of the original section members, and those friendship remained, but the section that now was had new faces, and apart from being Charles' wife, they had little other than that in common.

Missing the event would not truly sadden her. She accepted that she'd catch up with the old and original members, her true friends, some other time. She felt therefore this time, for this gathering, it was right Charles went alone.

He paced nervously around their bedroom as he attempted to pack. Cursing that the dress code was non uniform. Trying to select clothing that she'd see as suitable, appropriate, but wouldn't look as though he was trying too hard. He wanted to make a good impression. That was still so very important to him. He wanted to look like the Captain they had once seen him as, and so this outfit mattered. It was almost something to hide behind, he knew that, like he had once hidden behind his uniform. Everything about the weekend mattered, from living up to the trust Molly had placed in him, to showing and coping with the world he was once again being exposed to. He wanted to be the man he knew he could be again, and he needed everyone to see that.

He still felt uncomfortable about attending alone. He'd asked Molly so many times over the last weeks to attend with him, not just because he wanted her to, but he felt he needed her too. She still kept saying no.

As the date for the gathering grew closer he started to feel that he'd be unable to walk through the door of the party without her by his side, because that's not how they did things these days. These days they did everything by each other's sides.

He was worried too, and unsure. Worried how he'd react to the old faces after more than a year of not seeing them. Worried how they would react to him, after he'd left them alone, without the man they had all grown to trust. Wondered what feelings they might still have towards him, if any. He explained this all to Molly and she listened, but still she felt this was his and his alone. They both knew though, even though it was unspoken, that he too was worried about the extra complication of seeing Georgie again. Worried about any residual feelings he may still have over her. Content and secure enough to know he totally loved Molly. That would never change. He knew he couldn't, wouldn't, hurt her again, but he also knew of the guilty he still held onto about Elvis never truly left him, and he worried if seeing his best friend's fiancé again would bring it all back.

"You ok?" She asked as she dumped a load of freshly ironed clothes on the bed for him. She could see despite him being upstairs for over an hour he'd packed very little.

"Yeah." He said as he ducked out into the en-suite. Anything to avoid her questions. Hoping she approved of what he'd already packed.

Molly merely raised her eye brows and sat down waiting for his return.

She watched as he walked back in, and again sorted through the few items of clothing he had packed in his overnight bag.

She made no comment about his lack of progress. Well not for at least a minute. Then she couldn't stop herself.

"You nearly packed?" She merely got out before the smile broke through. She knew that mocking him would hurt him.

She watched him though as he was conflicted. Knowing he wanted to bat away her question, carrying on as though it was all fine. Wanting to show her he was up to the task, but he didn't. Too much had passed between them, and he chose the option that would allow her in. Their staying together something he'd never take for granted again, learning over the year that whatever happened, he, they needed to keep taking.

His sad brown eyes therefore turned towards her as he stood stock still in front of her.

"No." Moving his head slowly from side to side.

She reached out her hands and pulled him into her embrace. Grateful for his honesty. She knew it still cost him dearly. Her forehead rested softly just above the waist of his jeans. Enjoying the closeness and unique smell of her man as she did so.

They just stayed like that for minutes. There was no hurry to these things anymore. He stood holding her, she sat holding him, and he stroked her hair, while she gripped on to him from behind as an unconscious sign that she couldn't let him go. They both enjoyed these moments, always had, and she hoped they always would. Knowing that what they were sharing was a million miles away from what had happened to them in the past.

They were practiced in this. She knew he needed to talk, that something was bothering him, but he needed time to work it out.

"What can I do?" She simply ask as she lifted her chin from his stomach and looked at him.

He stared down at her. His face instantly crinkled with a smile. He pushed out a small laugh that had her head jumping as his stomach muscles moved.

"Come with me. Please." He directly asked. So unsure, still finding it hard being so vulnerable in front of her, but unable to stop. He needed her to know.

She pulled away and followed his stiff body as he sat down next to her. His eyes no longer meeting hers, now downcast, hands nervous rubbing up and down his jeans as he tried to lose the moisture that had suddenly built up on them.

He continued, because he knew he had to, because he knew she expected it.

"Come with me... please. Not because I think you should. Not because you think you should, but because I don't want to spent two nights away from you in a cheap room with a group of people who will only remind me of who is missing."

She watched him, appreciating all he said. The most eloquent speech he'd given about it all.

"Do you mean Elvis?" She asked. "Is that who you mean?"

He spun his head towards her. Astonished.

"No Molly. I mean you!" He leaned over and turned her face towards his. He held it gently in his fingers. "Being with the lads, the rest of the regiment... the section... well you were part of that once, before me, and you're still part of that because of me. You're my wife, you were their medic, their friend. Please come. But most of all please come because I'll miss you so fucking much if you don't!"

She had tried to be brave, strong, take the high road. Gave him the freedom to go alone, without her, because that what she thought he'd need. To let him know that she believed in him. That she trusted him. That was why she had wanted him to do this without her. Yet as the time came closer to the reunion she regretted saying she wouldn't go. Regretted what she'd lose by not being there. Regretted she wouldn't be by his side.

There was now no need for either of them to prove anything anymore.

"I'll come." Was all she said but it was enough to transform his face from one of need, to one of joy. Hers matched his too, and she moved willingly forward as he gently pulled her chin up and kissed her lips.

It wasn't that late, but the autumn night was starting to bite. Finishing off in the bathroom across the uniformed hallway, with remembered practice, she ran to their room and she jumped into the bed as quickly as she could. The guest room at his old Barracks was acceptable, well used, and as welcoming as it could be for guests to the camp, but at this time of year it was so very cold.

They had spent the day, and a fair part of the evening, in catching up with old friends, acquaintances, and colleagues. And in as equally surprising measures, making new friends too as the day progressed. They had stayed as long as they could, as they had wanted to. Nothing had chased them away, and now it was just the two of them curled up in the rented room for the night.

"Christ Molly your feet are cold." He shouted out into the darkness as she dived in and placed they directly on him, demanding his warmth.

She knew he didn't mind. That he loved such a simple action, and he confirmed it as he pulled her into the tightest of hugs. Kissing her head as he did.

They lay next to one another silent and content, listening to the sounds of the communal corridor eventually dying down. They were comfortable just lying there. The physical side to their marriage had recovered too as well as the mental side. For now they lay content with each other's naked bodies pressed against one another. No words were needed, but touch was.

She sighed thinking of the road they'd been on. Something she often did as they moulded into each other like this. Remembering how although she had taken him back into her bed, they hadn't fallen straight back into any form of intimacy that they had once shared. In those early days they were too bruised, too worried, too scared of breaking their recoveries by putting the sex card into the mix.

She had missed him though. He'd left the marriage long before her words were spoken to him over the phone that night. She'd yearned for him, long before he'd left her and long after he came back. But their recovery, they both knew that, was a step by step process that need to be got through.

When they did feel in the right place, when Molly finally felt she was happy to let him wholly back into her life, she was so very scared. Scared he may not desire her in such away anymore, scared, despite his assurances of love, that it was just her friendship and loyalty he craved. Scared she lost her husband and all the rights that entailed.

She was wrong. He too had been going through some mental torture in trying to determine when the time was right. Afraid to ask, as he'd been the one in the wrong, he'd always think that. So for many months they remained close, in love, but purely platonic in actions.

Fate has a strange way of sorting out our lives at times, and it was in fact neither of them who first raised the issue of intimate relationships again... but their mothers, separately. Almost in a pincher type movement they independently, by accident or by design, started subtlety to ask about grandchildren and the expectations of the pitter patter of tiny feet. Listening to their parents made them both realise that the outside world still saw them as a normal couple, and that life continued to move on.

Brave as she was known to be, brave as she is, it was therefore Molly who made the first move. Much to Charles' delight and surprised. Her hand reaching out and downwards towards him during one of their more frequent, innocence make out sessions in their marital bed.

As soon as she tasted his minty breath, felt his tongue explore her mouth and felt the soft hardness of him in her hand, she knew it was right. She knew there was no stopping her.

Their first time after such a long time was awkward, bumpy and both consumed with concern that the other was 'ok'. But the results of their administrations, their displays of love soon proved to be just as their love making always was... perfect. Each climaxing as they always used to, under the gentle love and encouragement from the other.

Since then, she giggled at the thought, as he still held her in his arms and rubbed her feet, there had been little stopping them. Their love making was new, different, almost as though finally they both felt content with what they had, rather than what they both thought the other wanted them to be. Different it may have been, even if she was honest more satisfying than what it used to be, it was most definitely more varied and frequent than she could remember. Once that final barrier had been breached, once totally honesty and intimacy had occurred there was no stopping them. She loved it, and judging by his willingness and eagerness, so did he. A sexual rediscovery of one's own love, she once confessed to him, was something she'd highly recommend.

"Sorry Dawes." He murmured into her ear, misinterpreting her giggle. His hot breath causing her insides to flip over in desire. "You're going to have to put up with my tickling to get you bloody feet warm." He cooed out.

"Yeah?" She squirmed as he moved his hands up and tickled her waist. "I'll put up with it." Then flipped herself fully over to face him.

She studied the man she loved lying next to her trying his best in everything for her. Always.

"What?" He asked as he saw her face become serious.

"You did well today." She said as she stroked his head. "Really well."

He beamed under her praise.

"Thank you." He said quietly, modestly.

He felt it. He had done good. The situation was manageable, and he'd even enjoyed it. She had been there by his side, but that was all. He hadn't depended on her, hadn't needed her to manage him. In fact, he had, after a short, while been totally happy for her to move in her social circle, while he moved in his. Separately, though every now and then he'd search her out with his eyes, just as she did him, but that was all.

He leaned over and kissed her slowly and deeply on her smiling lips. Pulling away just as she started to melt into him.

"You did pretty good yourself." He grinned back at her as he watched her start to almost pout at the loss of his kiss.

"Course I did. Always good at these things me ain't I?" She laughed out. "Well at least the ones where I don't get pissed!"

He pulled her into his arms as he rolled into his back. Making sure her bare body stayed close and tight to his.

"Was it ok? Today I mean for you?" He asked. "With you know, her being there?"

She knew this was coming. She knew he'd worry, had worried.

The truth be told she had felt Georgie's presence in the room well before she had seen her. Had felt the way Charles had suddenly come on high alert. How agitated his behaviour became, a reaction she hadn't seen from him for over a year, and was only visible to her trained eye. Yet Molly didn't react. Couldn't react, as she knew deep down out of them all there were no winners in what had happened. They all had lost Elvis. Molly and Charles were just lucky they hadn't lost each other.

"Yeah it really was. We even managed a few nice words too." Molly confessed. "Would have be strange if we hadn't. She still misses him."

Silence then followed, but this time it was too much. She dragged her hand slowly across his still firm body, and enjoyed the way he started to respond to her touch. His abdominal muscles almost quivering under her heat. The slow, sexy smile seeping across his face as he understood her mission.

"Molly." He started to say. Not a warning or a chastisement. Just simply a man calling out his wife's name.

But she didn't let him finish.

She rolled half on top of him, half above him. Her breasts doing their own thing, the thing which just happened to be one of his favourite things, as they rested totally on his chest. She felt the tickle of his few chest hairs on her nipples, and grinned at the delicious sensation.

"Look." She kissed him slowly up his neck and across his face, resting her lips on his. "We can talk about her. If you want... or we don't. Me... I don't fancy chat..."

The sentence wasn't finished and she never expected it to be.

He pulled her tight into him and flipped her over so she was total now underneath his fully aroused body. He pushed his lips hard onto hers and kissed her to silence her on the subject.

This time, this passion, was about them and only them. No other thoughts invaded their heads as their hands began to explore and their kisses intensified and moved across each other's body. They moved together slowly and with total delight. Bobbing and dipping in tune to the dance of love their hearts were listening too. Nothing now could, or would, break these two.

They had weathered a storm.

A long turbulent storm.

With days that were bleak and difficult, but they never gave up. They both fought on, because these two loved each other and knew that with each other they were just simply better people.

"No. I don't want to talk either." He broke away and looked into her eyes.

Her body starting to warm up, her pulse quickening, and her need for him definite. Still she raised her eyes in question.

"I'll never stop talking to you Molly. Ever. I promise, but not now." He started to kiss her body, slowly moving downwards and revelled in the way she arched up to meet his lips. "Now I want to have you in every sense possible."

She managed a giggle to escape despite the intense pleasure she was starting to feel underneath his kisses.

"And then..." He continued, his voice thick and low. "I want to do it all again, and start working on making a Baby James."

Poor Molly although this was her heart's desire too. Although this was what they had agreed on, she was beyond speech. Captain James' once gobby cockney medic could only manage to wimpier out her consent as beautiful stars and pleasure came crashing into her world under the work his lips were performing.


End file.
